Sleepless
by jessa-beth
Summary: In this little fluffy story, Hermione tries to help Ron cram for an exam late at night. Ron ends up falling asleep, and happens to be particularly talkative as he slumbers... Written pre DH.
1. Sleepless

**A/N:** This is just some happy fluffiness! I usually do things in first person, so this was hard for me, and I actually accidentally switched from third person to first person in my first draft! Silly me! But now I've edited it, and I think it's alright now. If you see any more errors like that, PLEASE let me know! Thanks!

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The dying embers in the common room gave the atmosphere a sleepy, almost eerie feel. The rich, brown color of Hermione's bushy hair glowed a pale gold under the dim lighting, the pitch blackness outside the window not aiding as a source of light. Ron's red hair looked nearly brown in such bad lighting. He leaned back in the armchair in which he sat, rubbing his sleep-deprived eyes. The enclosing darkness cast deep shadows on the curves of his simple face as he yawned, and folded his arms across his chest in defeat.

"Just face it, Hermione: I can't get it," he breathed.

She gave him a consoling look, and looked him straight in the eye as she said, "Yes, you can. You can do anything, Ron; you just don't have any confidence!" She flipped to another page in their potions book, and highlighting an entire paragraph for him.

Ron closed his eyes, letting himself sink into the largeness of his seat, wanting to fall asleep right then and there, consumed by the warm comfort of the soft armchair. "Can't we just give it up for a night, Hermione?" He opened his eyes again to look at her.

"Why? The exam is tomorrow, and you've barely prepared for it! I don't want you to fail!" She pleaded in a quiet voice, trying to comfort and convince him at the same time.

"Oh, for crying out loud, it's dark out already! We've been studying all night, and all the lights have been put out." Ron looked exasperated.

Hermione put her quill down on the pages of the book, and pulled out her wand. "Well if it's the dark that's bothering you, I can always conjure some more lights, you know…"

"No!" he said quickly, and closed his eyes again, rubbing his temples. "Light will only make my headache worse…"

"Oh, Ron," she suddenly looked concerned. "You have a headache?" Hermione shut her book, and left it and her quill to lie upon the table, forgotten, as she turned in her chair to him. She scooted her weight so that she was on the edge of the cushioned seat, and leaned forward to feel his forehead. "Well you don't have a fever, but if you've got a headache, we can stop anyway," she said, looking sympathetic.

He nodded wearily, eyes still resting gently. She noticed how calm he looked, like he was about to fall asleep. He must have really been exhausted. She watched his breathing grow heavy and thick as he began to drift into a deep sleep. Hermione could barely help but smile at how funny he looked with his mouth half open, his head lolling on his shoulder. His face was darkened by the looming blackness of their surroundings. His freckles were barely visible, but she knew they were there, and couldn't help thinking how they stood out dramatically when they could be seen, contrasting adorably with his pale white skin. Watching Ron look so peaceful made her feel comfortable, as though she were wrapped in a warm blanket. It made her drowsy, and with a stifled yawn, she stood up as quietly as she could so as not to wake the sleeping Ron.

Hermione turned to go, when suddenly a rather cold, sweaty palm wrapped itself around her wrist. She started, but knew, even before she turned around, who was holding her. Who else could it have been, anyway? No one else was in the room. Facing him again, she found he was still fast asleep, but his hand seemed to have a particularly strong grasp on her. She was rather surprised by this unexpected strength in his arm. Not minding the feel of his touch there, but wanting to go up to bed, she tried to pry his fingers from her own arm, but they only tightened themselves around her, beginning to cut off her circulation. Giving up the losing battle against his grip, she sat on the arm of his chair. Sitting on the other empty seat would have yanked him off his own chair, and woken him up. Hermione didn't want to wake Ron up at all, though; he needed his sleep, and he had looked so exhausted and weak before he'd at last fallen asleep. She wanted him to be able to sleep on, without being disturbed.

Ron suddenly pulled her down so that she was squeezed into the seat with him, her hips feeling unusually compressed. Her heart began to flutter violently in excitement of simply being that close to him. Feeling the side of his body against hers was giving her chills, and she could barely take it anymore; she let out a soft sigh.

Ron finally let go of her wrist then, and instead curled his arms around her middle, and lay his head on her slender shoulder.

"Oh, for goodness sake…" she let out under her breath, rolling her eyes. But she was not about to deny that the feel of him on her like that was giving her an ecstasy she knew could only come from touching Ron. A smile began to play across her lips as she let herself get comfortable, and she slowly sank into the inviting, warm, surrounding cushions of the chair, next to Ron. As her eyelids began to droop, and her vision faded slowly, her bones growing heavy and weak, she heard him say something.

"Hermione…" he muttered, in a daze.

She didn't know whether or not to reply. Was he asleep, or still half-awake?

She went for it. "Hm?" was all she decided to say. She waited, to see if he'd answer. After several long moments, he hadn't, and she began to drift off into that promising darkness that seemed only inches away. She just had to reach out a little bit more, and she'd fall into that wonderful blissful calm that is sleep. And then…

"I love you, Hermione."

Suddenly quite alert, she looked at him. Ron was, indeed, soundly asleep on her shoulder, his hands still wrapped around her as though hugging a stuffed animal as a safety net. The feel of his arms against her stomach made her so lightheaded…

She needed to sleep. She had to. It was so inviting, so generous looking, right there, ahead of her…

And then, at last, after deciding silently to herself that she would ask Ron about this tomorrow, she gave in to the overpowering pressure of sleep, and fell into a deep state.


	2. Waking

**A/N:** For the few people who asked me to continue, I did. I'm sick, so please spare me, and don't remind me how horrible this is unless you really, really feel the need to. Bah. I hope you enjoy it, my children of the corn. :P

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A soft tapping on her shoulder jerked Hermione quickly awake. Her tousled hair was everywhere, and she couldn't see. Brushing it aside, Hermione saw a pair of very round glasses somewhere above her. Rubbing the sleep from her drowsy eyes, Harry's face loomed into view through the fog clouding her vision. 

"Hermione," he was saying rather sharply. "Hermione!"

She jumped at the sound of his voice, and found herself stuck in what appeared to be a very tight chair. She blinked, and looked down.

Ron was sitting beside her, and the two of them were squeezed together in a rather comfortable armchair, made less comfortable by the fact that a red-haired boy stuffed in it alongside her was clinging to her like a blanket, arms around her neck, snoring loudly on her shoulder. "Oh, now, _honestly_," she breathed, rolling her eyes.

Harry's face was split into a wide smile, and he was offering her his hand to help her out. She took it gladly, and yanked herself to her feet. Ron slid from her shoulder, but was still sitting upright, and fast asleep.

"Well," Harry laughed, "at least he looks peaceful." He smiled almost painfully. "Maybe where he is, Voldemort doesn't exist, yeah?"

Hermione watched Ron sleeping with utmost interest. Had what he said to her last night been true, or was he simply mumbling disjointedly with no meaning at all? Did he really… love her? Hermione knew how she felt about Ron, but had begun to simply give up on it, when his ignorance had become such a hindrance in their could-have-been relationship. But after what he'd said to her last night…

"Oh, yeah… maybe…" she agreed, barely knowing what she was talking about. The way Ron seemed to swell with every deep breath he took, and deflate with every exhale, was much more interesting to her at the moment than whatever it was that Harry had been talking about. She had a sudden urge to take notes on him, maybe even draw a picture of him… but she pushed all her nerdy thoughts from her mind, and turned back to Harry, blushing slightly from the pathetically girly thoughts she'd been having. "Yes… yes, I do hope he's having pleasant dreams like that, one of us should." She smiled back at Harry, who seemed lost in thought.

"It would be nice if we were all able to sleep as soundly as Ron here can," he said, shaking his head and walking around a bit. "Y'know, maybe he's dreaming about… nah."

"What?" Hermione inquired.

"Nah, I won't say. It was just a silly thought." He seemed to be holding back laughter as he looked at Ron beginning to drool in his sleep.

Hermione, annoyed, rolled her eyes and said, "Oh, this is just ridiculous." She shook Ron by his shoulders. "Ron—Ron, wake up!"

Ron snapped awake and sat bolt upright. "Bloody hell, Hermione, what—oh, hey Harry. What's going on?" He yawned, and rubbed his face with the back of his hand, sleepily.

"Good morning, Ronald," Hermione chimed, and she couldn't help but blush when he looked at her, especially after what he'd said last night.

"Uh… morning, Hermione," Ron said.

"Yeah, rise and shine, Ron, what had you looking so happy in your sleep?" Harry laughed openly at his friend, who went pink. He looked at Hermione, but looked away just as soon as their eyes met, ears blushing a deep red color now.

"Nothing," Ron mumbled. "Just dreaming silly things…"

"Yeah, silly things, alright… if you say so…" Harry winked, and punched Ron on the shoulder. "I'm going down to breakfast. I'll see you," he called, already half way to the portrait hole.

"Oh, right, okay, I'm not hungry," Ron mumbled into his jeans as he drew his knees up to his chest and curled up in a ball.

Hermione however, though rather hungry herself, decided to stay with Ron. She had to ask him about what he'd said. Whether or not he really did… really meant… he couldn't have, but she had to find out…

"Ron…?" She began, cautiously.

"Hm…" Ron moaned, uncaring.

Hermione sat on the armchair next to his, which she had been sitting in last night, before he'd pulled her into his seat with him. She twisted her hands in her lap, and found that her palms were sweating rather profusely. She wiped them on her skirt, and swallowed, before continuing.

"Ron… did you mean what you said… last night…?" Hermione inhaled deeply, to calm herself, but Ron didn't seem to know what she was talking about.

"What I said about what?" Ron mumbled.

Hermione took another deep breath, and said quickly, "Well, last night, in your sleep, you said… that you… loved me…" and at that, she dug her nails into the skin on the back of her hand, so nervous that it was eating at her insides.

She watched as Ron's eyes snapped open, and he suddenly coughed, loudly.

"I… what… I never… _did I?_" He spluttered.

"Uh… yes, you did."

"But… I… well…" He seemed to be casting around for something to say. He looked no longer tired. His face was now a brilliant red that nearly matched his hair, and he was intentionally avoiding looking at Hermione, who had to repress a giggle at Ron's fairly amusing reaction.

"Well, I just wondered if… I wondered if you meant it," Hermione offered, trying to be helpful.

"Well… I donno… I guess… I mean… the thing is…" Ron seemed unable to fit more than two words together as he threw disjointed mumbled words at her. "I mean… I guess, I always kinda… but, I mean… well, no, that's not… I didn't…"

Something inside Hermione seemed to explode, and she knew, suddenly, what she needed to do. "Ron," she said, determined to finally tell him. "Ron, you know… I've liked you for a really long time now." Her voice was timid, but an invisible weight seemed to have been lifted from her shoulders as she finally said the words she'd been wanting to for so long.

"You…" he whispered. "You… you did?"

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Yes, of course I did, you prat! I've been waiting for you to notice for ages, but you never did… so, I started to give up, after a while."

Ron's eyes were filled with something Hermione had never seen in them before. It was as if he were looking at her for the first time.

"You… but _I've_…"

"It's okay, Ron, if you don't feel the same way. I just thought that maybe… because you said that thing… last night…"

Ron shook his head. "No!" He said at once. "No! No, no, no, I meant it!" He seemed to suddenly realize what he'd said, and looked momentarily shocked. His face went ghostly white, but he shook his head, and seemed to gather himself together. "No, Hermione, don't you get it? I've just been… denying it. I've loved you for as long as I can remember, but I've just been… yeah, denying it." He slipped forward onto the edge of his seat, and took Hermione's hands in his.

Her heart was pounding so loudly, she could barely hear her own thoughts. All that seemed able to penetrate the deafening sound was Ron's soft, nervous voice. "I was so jealous of you when you were with Viktor Krum… God did that kill me, when I saw you together, but I guess I kinda got even with the whole Lavender thing. You know, I didn't really like her. It was all an attempt to make you jealous. I just… ugh, I donno… I've been denying it for too long. This is stupid. Y'know what, I'm just gonna stop talking now and…"

And that's when he kissed her.

Hermione knew, a moment before it happened, and just as her heart fluttered magnificently, his lips pressed onto hers, and she nearly cried. It was what she'd been waiting for, for so long, and it was finally happening. Ah, the feel of his lips on hers was the ultimate pleasure to her. It was a very gently kiss—full of fire, and passion, but small, dry, and innocent.

She felt his hand slip onto her cheek, and she couldn't help but giggle. It was such an un-Hermione-like giggle that it made Ron pull back.

"Oh, sorry, Ron, I just…" she giggled again. "I can't help it, it's just that… I've been waiting for this for… so long…" Hermione bit her bottom lip, trying to hold in her ecstatic laughter. And then, Ron began to laugh too.

The two of them sat together and laughed for a very long time. They didn't know how long they were there, but finally, when people were starting to fill into the common room from breakfast, and their sides were aching from laughing so much, they gave each other a knowing look, and with a final grin, decided silently that they wouldn't mention this to Harry at all, for his sake. And at that, they gathered together their books, still lying on the table from the night before, and left for class.

No one seemed to notice though, that the red-haired boy and the bushy-haired know-it-all were holding hands as they clambered through the portrait hole and headed for Defense against the Dark Arts class.


End file.
